


Kiss Me Complete

by teaandcharcoal



Series: Trans!Dave [8]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Bulges and Nooks, Earth C (Homestuck), Established Relationship, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, M/M, Scissoring, Strap-Ons, Trans Dave, Trans Male Character, Vaginal Sex, Xenophilia, cause they've been doin it for a while, romantic, sort of, two vaginas press against each other but there's also some penetration involved because tentabulges
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-12
Updated: 2017-06-12
Packaged: 2018-11-13 07:49:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11180292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teaandcharcoal/pseuds/teaandcharcoal
Summary: "You know he'd be happy without. He loves you for fuck's sake. He loves you and wants you shitty jokes, cool façade, emotional trauma, and weird hobbies and all. But you know it's still a compromise. He wants someone to run after him in the rain, grab his wrist and try to bring him back with a big declaration of love. He wants someone who can be suave and sophisticated and who can sweet talk him well enough to sweep him off his feet and into a king-sized four poster bed with silk sheets. He wants someone who would take him out under the stars, share a talk about troubled pasts that didn't devolve into either messy crying or total dissociation but instead grow into passionate kisses by moonlight. So sure he wanted you, but he also wanted someone who could do the kind of things that you couldn't.But dammit if you're not gonna try to do it all for him anyway."It's Karkat's birthday and Dave wants to do something special and romantic for him. Part of an established universe, but you don't need to read it to understand what's going on.





	Kiss Me Complete

**Author's Note:**

> Dammit, Dave, stop taking over your boyfriends' birthdays. 
> 
> Anyway, Karkat, happy wiggly day. You get to see how hot your boyfriend thinks you are. 
> 
> This is either Karkat's eighteenth or ninteenth birthday, putting it after the arrival on earth C but before shades of grey. He's had his adult molt fairly recently.

You set the two wineglasses on your wobbly, uneven table. Even though you did your best to wedge little pieces of paper under one of its legs, you can still shake it like a goddamn Polaroid picture or however the song went. Must be your floor that's uneven. You assume that’s probably your fault, but there's much you can do about that shit now.

Your phone buzzes and you pull the damn thing out so fucking fast you almost rip the pocket right out of your pants. Shit, dude, you gotta learn to be more careful with that stuff. If you fuck this up now… No, don’t think about it. Don’t even fucking think about it. Your phone happily displays that you have one text from John. Shit, it’s go time. You check the message just to be sure.

"crab is heading towards shore. you've got like 5 minutes til he gets home!"

"copy that ghost boy" you reply. “crow out”

You take a deep breath, try to settle your nerves. You've got this. You researched. You practiced. you can try to be a gentleman for one damn evening. Besides, you already found the flowers and made the food and place settings and shit. There's no turning back now.

Maybe this wasn't the best idea for a birthday present. You wish there were still stores so you could have gotten him a gift card or something. Even if he really deserves better. Even if he really deserves this.

You know he'd be happy without. He loves you for fuck's sake. He loves you and wants you shitty jokes, cool façade, emotional trauma, and weird hobbies and all. But you know it's still a compromise. You haven't missed how when you get to a big emotional scene in a romantic movie where there's professing of love or passionate kissing leading to touching leading to either a bedroom scene with trick angles or a fade to black he'll just turn and give you these looks with a kind of hopeful sadness in his eyes. He wants someone to run after him in the rain, grab his wrist and try to bring him back with a big declaration of love. He wants someone who can be suave and sophisticated and who can sweet talk him well enough to sweep him off his feet and into a king-sized four poster bed with silk sheets. He wants someone who would take him out under the stars, share a talk about troubled pasts that didn't devolve into either messy crying or total dissociation but instead grow into passionate kisses by moonlight. So sure he wanted you, but he also wanted someone who could do the kind of things that you couldn't.

But dammit if you're not gonna try to do it all for him anyway.

You smooth the nonexistent creases in your jacket one more time. You tell yourself you look great, that you've always been able to rock a fucking suit and nothing is ever gonna be able to take that away from you. You go over your lines in your head one more time and take another deep breath.

Okay, you think you're ready.

So, of course, it takes Karkat the full five minutes to get back. You pace and wipe your hands on your pants over and over, trying to make it so your palms won't be too embarrassingly sweaty when he gets here.  There’s diminishing returns, but at least it’s something.

In spite of the way you’ve spent the last 300 seconds anxiously waiting for the door to open, you still jump when it does.

“Dave!” Karkat calls out, “I’m home!”

“In the kitchen!” you shout back.

He peeks around the corner and his jaw drops. Good, this was the exact reaction you were hoping for. And it’s gotta be quite a sight for him. You’ve turned out all of the lights, only illuminating the dining area with a handful of red taper candles. You alchemized a nice white linen tablecloth and those fancy little silver dishes covers that show up in movies some times and it’s the absolute shit. And then there’s you. Of course the suits from when you were thirteen don’t fit anymore, so you’ve made a brand new one in a steely grey with a bright red shirt underneath. Your hair is combed back carefully, and your black tie is as square and neat as you could make it. (Normally you'd make a joke about not being able to do anything straight but you're being good, dammit). You know you look great, you know the room looks great. You just have to not fuck it up.

“Welcome home, honey,” you say, trying to make your voice as low and smooth as possible.

“Dave? What are you-“

“Thought I’d do something nice for your bir- wriggling day. Have a seat.” You pull out a chair for him.

“Thanks?” He looks at you in confusion. You're not sure if he doesn't get what's happening, or if he's waiting for this to be the set up to some elaborate prank. You reassure yourself he's going to catch on soon enough. He sits and you push the chair in just a bit.

“You’re welcome. I made food too. Like actually on the stove, not just from the dispenser thing. I mean, it’s just spaghetti, but…” But you did your best, and the effort shows. When you pull the cover off of Karkat’s plate everything looks neat and centered and Gordon Ramsay would have been proud. Probably less proud if he saw the pile of fucked up dishes you stashed in the sink, but it’s dark so nobody has to know about those.

He looks down at the spaghetti, then back up to you. “Who are you and what have you done with Dave?”

You try to laugh it off. “It’s still me. I’m just trying to treat you right.”

He still seems uncertain, but he takes the fork and grabs a bite of the pasta. “Holy shit, this is good!”

“The secret ingredient is love.” You say.

He looks at you like you grew a second head.

“Well, that and lessons from dad Crocker.”

He smiles a bit at that. “Yeah, okay, that makes more sense.”

You pour both of you a glass of wine before sitting and the fancy covery thing off of your own plate. You eat slowly and carefully, making sure to take your time instead of just stuffing your face like usual. Okay, next step, polite conversation. Just remember not to insert your foot the moment you open your damn mouth.

“So how was your day, darling?” You ask, managing not to stumble over the pet name you never use.

He gives you a slightly confused look and then slowly, unsurely starts to talk about the stuff he got done in the cloning lab. You let him dominate the conversation, only filling in when he stops to take a bite of his food.

“And the weird thing is that near the end of the day Jade and Jane brought me cookies. Apparently they got all excited about it being my wiggling day too.” He still sounds absolutely dumbfounded, like he missed the way that you’ve been celebrating everyone’s birthday for years. It’s honestly kind of cute.

Still, since it is his birthday and you _are_ celebrating it, you pass up the opportunity to tease him and instead say, “It’s about showing how glad we are that you’re here.”

“Where else would I go?” He asks. “Everywhere else in this universe is just wilderness and I wouldn’t last a week.”

You shrug. “Just want you to know how important you are.”

His face goes red and he starts shoveling pasta into his mouth.

“What?”

“Nuffin,” he says around the spaghetti.

“Are you getting all flustered already?” you ask, smiling.  

“Shut up!”

You open your mouth to tease him, but stop yourself a second time. Dammit, Dave, be good. “Sorry. You're just so amazing and wonderful. You're the best person I've ever met." You weren't planning on giving your little speech this early, but somehow in this moment it feels right. You close your eyes, trying to picture the little note card you made yourself when you were practicing. "I don't think  you know how important you really are - to everyone, but especially to me.  I have no idea where I'd be if it weren't for you because you've done _so much_ that's helped me deal with my body issues, and the realization that I'm bi, and everything that Bro put me through. You're the best boyfriend and matesprit that anyone could ever ask for, and I-"

You open your eyes again and he's started crying. Silent tears roll down his cheeks and he just stares at you, expression unreadable. Your stomach falls through to the floor and the big finale dies in your throat.

"Yeah?" He asks, leaning forward just a little bit.

"I-" You what? You know the word you want to say, but you’ve never managed to wrap your tongue around it properly. And now you've lost your momentum. So what kind of cheap imitation are you gonna shove in this time? “I really do care about you, you know. I mean we all do, but for me especially, I… I’m glad we got over ourselves on the meteor.”

And because he's known you this long, and because he loves you as truly and deeply as you love him, he _gets_ it. He smiles as he hears the words your mouth refuses to say.

"Fuck, Dave…" he wipes his tears away with his sleeve, "I love you too. And I know you probably worked really hard on making dinner, and I'm trying to appreciate it, but I really just want to hold you right now."

You can't help but smile back. "Yeah. Yeah, we can do that. Besides, I prepped the bedroom too."

He gets to his feet. "Let's go."

You take him by the hand and lead him to your room. You tidied up as much as possible, hiding most of your shit in the closet or under the bed so you could put a few bigger candles on the dressers and nightstands without it being too much of a fire hazard. There are fresh grey sheets on the bed for you to ruin together. You were a little worried rose petals would get stuck somewhere uncomfortable, so you skipped out on those, but the rest is textbook.  

Karkat kicks off his shoes and lies on his side near the middle of the bed. You join him and snuggle up close, peppering his nose and cheeks with kisses. Karkat purrs sweetly and rubs his hands over your side and back. He pauses for a moment to pull off your shades and set them gently to the side, and when he comes back you've got a kiss waiting for him.

His lips are soft and familiar, if a little broader and fuller than they were before his molt. Of course, what about him isn't? Not that it wasn't a welcome change. He's still slimmer than you, but as you run your hand down his side, you take the time to enjoy how where you once had a teenage beanpole with a few awkward piles of fat you now get to enjoy a nice even distribution of lithe muscle covered in a thin layer of softness.

He's feeling you up too. It's not sexual, not yet, just some mutual appreciation. You're not entirely certain how much he gets out of this. You feel like your body's barely changed since before the first time you fucked, and yet every time he seems to enjoy feeling your chub under his hands like it's a whole new adventure. Just once you think you'd like to see yourself through his eyes, to really know how he perceives you and that he loves you like you love him. That's never gonna happen, but gentle petting and soft noises of approval still help you feel a little more attractive.

You pull away from the kiss to press your foreheads together. He clutches you closely and smiles. Your eyes can’t really focus on his face from this close and he looks like a demented cyclops. Somehow, it still manages to be charming.

“I love you.” It comes out so naturally you don’t even notice until Karkat gasps. “Holy shit, I can’t believe that even just happened. Never thought I’d say this, but thank you unstoppable word diarrhea!”

He laughs, light and sweet. “Come here, you dork.”

“Let’s be real, it’s not like I can get that much clos- mmph!” You’re mercifully cut off by Karkat’s lips on yours.

Yeah, okay, this works too. You close your eyes and let him take the lead. There’s more hunger in it this time. You’re not sure if it was your confession or his thought process or the prolonged proximity, but he’s definitely interested in stepping things up. There's that subtle shift in his scent, a sharp smell almost like overripe fruit signaling that you’ve got a troll who’s real interested in getting frisky. It was honestly kind of a turn-off at first, but now you've been trained. Just like a dog in that stupid study Rose likes to site all the time, you get a hint of that and hunger claws at your belly. You're making extra fluids at the wrong end, but the comparison is still annoyingly apt. You throw one leg over Karkat and rub against him, pressing against his hips for a bit of relief. He groans and his purrs get louder.

"Fuck…" he whispers, pulling away for just a moment. "Dave…"

You surge forward, kissing him again. He rubs down against you a little harder. Sadly, he's got no sign of a wiggly yet, but you just know that under his clothes his sheath has to be bright red and swollen. Ooh, under his clothes sounds like a good idea. You tug on his shirt and he scoots away from you. What is very much not a whine leaves your mouth.

Karkat snorts and sits up, "Come on, we both know we can't strip like that."

His hands go to the hem of his shirt and that shuts your complaints down immediately. Karkat stripping is a fucking cinematic masterpiece. You've considered using time travel to go and see it in slow-mo from a bunch of different angles. He moves quickly, but you stretch it out as long as you can in your mind, capturing every inch of movement as formless black wool is peeled away to reveal shining charcoal-grey skin. As he stretches his arms up over his head you can see every major tendon and muscle group, vaguely similar to your own but still obviously different. And when he gets high enough, suddenly, boobs. That was a really nice surprise for you after he molted. Yes, you knew male trolls grow small breasts and, yeah, once Karkat started gaining weight some of it had conglomerated in his chest area. But there was just something about having your living, breathing, no-one-doubts-his-masculinity boyfriend rocking a solid b-cup that made you feel a little better about your own situation. Also, boobs are squishy and fun to play with, so double score.

You run your hands down his sides before he even gets his sweater all the way over his head. He throws it to the side and then kisses you again, but he doesn't linger long because now it's your turn. You make a show of casually shrugging off your jacket and draping it over the bedpost, then force him to watch as you slowly unbutton your shirt. He pops his fly open and one of his hands slides down the front of his pants, to rub against his poor sheath. He looks at you with a combination of love and lust that turns all of your guts to jello. Fuck, he’s this turned on and you’re still technically totally covered. You peel your binder off quickly, trying to think more about him than about the fact that you totally look like a sausage bursting out of its skin.

But, hey, maybe he's just into that. As soon as you're topless he's back, holding you close to him and playing tonsil hockey like it's the fourth quarter of the fucking Stanley cup. Wait, is hockey a quarter sport? Do they just do halves? Is it something stupid like tennis or baseball or- He grabs two fistfuls of your ass and tugs your hips together. His fingers dig into the sensitive underside of your butt, setting fire to your nerves.

Your hands fly to your waistband and you yank your zipper down, trying to fish your packer out without breaking the kiss. But then Karkat helps you do one better, yanking your pants down over the curve of your ass. You yelp in surprise.

"Eager, babe?" you ask.

"Fuck yes," he breathes. “Been waiting for this all day.”

You run your fingers through his hair and give him a cocky smile. "So, since you’ve been thinking about, what exactly do you want?"

"I want," he slides his hands back up over your hips. "I want you to kiss me complete."

You pull back to give him a surprised look. You've heard the phrase before. It's practically a staple in really bad rom coms, a euphemism for sex even cornier than making love, something you both know no one should ever say in real life.

He blushes and breaks eye contact. "What? You get to be corny and I don't?"

"Heh, it's fine."

"I just… I like the concept. You know, the symmetry, the emotional connection, all that."

"I mean," you murmur, "I'm not saying no. I'd be down for some… The real name is a double kiss, right? I'm trying not to call it troll missionary for once."

His face is still really red, but he smiles at you. "Yeah. Yeah it is."

You get up off the bed to shove your pants down to the ground. When you look back at Karkat he's completely bare. His sheath is every bit as swollen and red as you thought it would be. The very tip of his bulge peaks out excitedly, like it's an actual sentient thing looking for a nook to slide into, and you know it's his penis but it's fucking adorable. You want to play with it, have it run over your hand or into your nook or even down your throat.

Karkat wouldn't turn you down, but you know that's not really what he wants tonight. He kneels on the bed and watches you eagerly, leaning a little bit forward with his ears perked towards you. He wants dick just as bad as you do. So you reach into the bedside table and pull out your harness, already set up with Karkat's favorite toy. It's a long red tentacle, not a perfect recreation of a bulge, but pretty damn close. He groans softly as it comes into view.

You smile and kiss down the length of the toy, just showing off for him a little bit. Sadly, there's not really a sexy way to put a harness on, but damn if you don't try, drawing attention to your thighs and your ass. Karkat's super into your cellulite if his purring is anything to go by. He licks his lips and gives you the bedroomy-est of bedroom eyes and his bulge slips out another quarter inch. But if you're gonna do troll missionary you'll need to adjust a little bit. And yeah, okay, there really is no sexy way to fiddle with straps. But soon enough the toy hangs lower, closer to where a troll bulge would be than human dick position.

"Alright," you say, "Any further and it's gonna be on top of my clit."

"It looks perfect," he replies. "Now please…"

He shifts his position, spreading his legs. The motion is enough to open his sheath the rest of the way. The room is flooded with the scent of aroused troll. His nook draws your gaze, a brilliant red slit glistening in the candlelight. His bulge unfurls itself, its three accessory tentacles coiling and uncoiling around the base. Your pussy has never felt so empty.

"Fuck," you breathe, "I need you."

"Come get me."

You snatch the remote for your bulge and slide back onto the bed. The two of you do your best to scoot close together without looking too stupid. You lift one foot over his leg and slide the other under his thigh. When you're close enough, you and Karkat reach out and wrap your arms around each other. Then you can get just a little bit of leverage to pull yourselves closer Your upper bodies come together first. You close your eyes a moment before your lips make contact. He opens his mouth and you take the initiative and deepen the kiss.

His hands reach down to your butt again, and he gently pulls you forward. Your chests press together, and _fuck_ his breasts feel nice, so soft against your own. You barely make it through that thought before his bulge processes that there's a nice, warm hole right in front of it and lashes out. It brushes over your clit as it wiggles around, desperately searching for your actual nook. You gasp at the teasing pressure.  

"Stupid thing," Karkat grumbles, grabbing a hold of his dick. "You've done this a hundred fucking times."

"Fucking times is right," you tease. Your voice comes out a lot more breathless than you’d intended.

He gives you his patented "unimpressed with your shenanigans" look and then presses his thumb into your clit. You groan and instinctively roll your hips forward. That gives his bulge even better access. As soon as the tip slides against the inside of your nook it gets the picture and surges forward. Karkat lets out a low groan that just goes straight to your core. Or maybe that's just his bulge. It's curling up inside of you trying to do its bulge thing and you lose any and all control and awareness of the things leaving your mouth.

"Fuck dude, drill me harder! Like I'm some beautiful serene landscape and you're a corrupt politician or a greedy-"

He shuts you up with a kiss which, yeah, probably for the best. You reach down and grab your bulge. The internal mechanics resist just a little bit as you ease the first couple inches into Karkat's nook. Once it's in place you can use your hands to push your body forward until your sheaths are flush against one another. And then it all just slides into place, leaving you both gasping for breath. When he's fully stretched out his bulge is well over a foot long, tapering from the pointed tip to a base that's a solid inch and a half in diameter. And now all of that is curled up inside of you, the coil almost as wide as his fist all the way down.

"Dave!" He pants.

"Oh fuck, Karkat," you reply.

"Remote?"

"Shit! Right!" You fumble with the remote and hear a soft buzzing as the toy stirs. As it moves it tugs on the straps of your harness, but you don't get any feedback yourself.

Karkat throws his head back and groans. "Yessss. Just like that." Then he starts pulsing, his length expanding and contracting and trying to follow it makes you dizzy.

You brace yourself up with one arm and throw the other around his shoulders. He wanted to do the double-kiss thing and you're gonna do it right. You resist the urge to slam your lips together and instead gently pull him close. You do cave enough to take his lower lip between your teeth briefly but he doesn't seem to mind. He just sighs happily and throws both of his arms around your neck. Your one arm starts protesting the fact that it's now kind of holding up two people's weights, but the way that he arches and grinds against you makes it all worth it.

His tongue makes its way past your lips. The tip of his bulge flicks the same way his tongue does in a bizarre but not unpleasurable synchronicity.  You wish you could be so dexterous. Even with the toy’s basic programming doing that for you, you can barely just tangle your tongue with his and roll your hips to match his pace.

If Karkat wanted symmetry and perfection you’re falling a little short. Partially because you _are_ short. You’ve got to stretch up and he has to bend down. Your legs are both at kind of a funny angle, and your propping arm is starting to cramp. It’s not nearly as effortless as it looks in the movies. And your fake bulge is pretty good, but it doesn’t have anywhere near the fluidity and the grace of the cock inside of you.

But if you want to talk about love and completeness, well, you’ve never felt fuller in your life. It’s not just about the volume of troll dick in you. Sure, it’s enough to give a nice happy stretch, but you know your limits and he's nowhere near them. It's an emotional fullness. You'd call it spiritual if you believed in that. Cosmological maybe? And it's not just sex-brain talking. It's kind of sex-brain talking, but you know your sex-brain and it normally doesn't make your heart swell and your entire being to feel fuzzy. You pull out of the kiss so you can press your foreheads together again, breathe him in and look at him.

"Fuck, dude, I'm so gay." You say between breaths.

"Shocking."

"I mean it. You're beautiful. I want you forever."

His bulge stutters inside of you.

"Karkat?"

"Don't stop." He groans.

And you do what you do best. You babble. And babble. And babble. You don't even know what you're saying. You just know his face keeps sliding between happiness and awe and pure unfettered love, all with an overtone of arousal. You just know that his bulge pulses and rubs against your insides, that hitting all the good spots at once in a way stiffer cocks can't and that he's flicking against your clit in a not-quite pattern that drives you absolutely fucking crazy. You just know that you are head over heels in love with this troll.

So you tell him. And tell him. And tell him. The pressure is building up inside of you, and the gushing of words is doing nothing to relieve it. Your fingernails bite into his back and he holds you almost tenderly, caressing you with the soft pads of his fingers. He's nowhere near the edge, but you can't help the fact that you are. Instead you let it consume you. Lightning shoots along your nerves and fire floods your veins and your body convulses. You're not a screamer, but you do let out a drawn-out, wordless moan.  

When you come back into yourself all you want to do is collapse against him, but you can't. His accessory tentacles, which had been your best friends in the world a second ago, are now mercilessly assaulting your clit and you need them gone. You scoot back a little. Your animatronic bulge keeps coiling and thrashing in the air.

"Dave, please," He begs. "I still need you."

"'M still here," you reply. Even if there’s still aftershocks of your orgasm racing through you, you’re collected enough to help him out. You grab the bucket from under the bed and then push yourself up onto your knees.

Karkat catches on to what you're doing and switches positions. He crawls up to you, love and lust and desperation making a beautiful cocktail of emotion in his eyes. You grab hold of him again, pulling him close. Both of you have half the bucket between your knees and the rest of your bodies are pressed together. His bulge tangles with yours, trapped between both of your bellies. Your chests get in your way just a little, but that's not going to stop you from putting your arms around him and kissing him. It's not open-mouthed, not anymore, but you still do your best to convey all the love in your overly-full heart until he pulls away to pant into your shoulder.

By that point you've more or less come back to yourself, and you get to enjoy the beauty that is a completely disheveled Karkat. His shoulders heave with each breath he takes. A delicate flush has spread from his face down his neck and across his upper back. It's not as obvious as it was back when he was a paler grey, but it's still pretty. He's groaning and purring and now you take your turn to pet him gently as he rakes his nails up and down your back. As he cries your name his bulge darts downwards, spilling his material into the waiting bucket.

"There you go," you murmur. "Come for me, baby. Let it all out."

Eventually, the sound of liquid hitting metal stops. He leans heavily on you, but you manage to ease him back down onto the mattress and even get the bucket on the ground and away from the danger of flailing legs. In all honesty you've completely recovered from your orgasm, but you decide to lie with him anyway. He sleepily nuzzles your face and you kiss him some more. Lips, nose, chin, cheeks, forehead, you don't care as long as your lips are on him somewhere. And he likes it too if his contented clicks and purrs are anything to go by.

"Do I have a well-fucked Karkat?" You ask teasingly.

He nods.

"Did I do good?"

He nods again.

"Fuck, you're amazing." You nudge his cheek with your forehead.

"Dave?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you want me to move? Because we both know that's not happening any time in the near future."

You laugh. "Nah. Although, to be honest, I'm a little hungry. Tempted to go grab the rest of my spaghetti and-"

You're cut off as he wraps his arms around you. "No."

"Pfft, okay buddy."

You stroke his hair gently and let Karkat drift off to his post-orgasm nap. You will need to move at some point. You weren't kidding, now that your metaphorical sexual hunger is sated, your actual physical hunger is actually coming back. But even though your nook is empty and your stomach's empty, your chest isn't giving up on this "try to burst" thing. And, obvious _Alien_ jokes aside, you kind of like it.

You decide it's fine to just sit here for a while. After all, you’ve got all the time in the world.


End file.
